


RSD

by anaemicvampire



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Quentin Coldwater has ADHD, Rejection Sensitivity Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaemicvampire/pseuds/anaemicvampire
Summary: quentin has a difficult moment dealing with his emotionsor; quentin has adhd and rsd and therefore nothing you can do to stop me from writing comfort fics about him
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	RSD

**Author's Note:**

> as someone with adhd, i tend to ask questions about simple things a lot. usually its because i like hearing other people tell me about things, or because getting the info on my own can be hard and i need help sometimes. 
> 
> not to get too in depth, but i did write this fic to cope with a similar situation. ive always been super self conscious about question asking, so when someone tells me to just "look it up", my rsd kicks in and i immediately assume they hate me or something. 
> 
> anyways, i just wanted to write this as a nice little comfort fic, bc as well as my rsd making me stressed out and emotional, i am also a big ol quentin coldwater kinnie and i needed to write about Him. 
> 
> enjoy!!!

Quentin taps his thumb against his forefinger as he stares down at the mess of spell components before him, his leg bouncing furiously beneath the table. Across from him, Penny is looking annoyed and grumpy, as per usual, as he looks through a textbook of Poppers. Quentin bites his lip as he looks over his spell components once more, eyes flickering across the page but retaining nothing. He swallows slightly, glancing up at Penny for a moment. 

"Hey, do you know if Popper 12 or 13 is better for a -"

"Oh my god," Penny groans, rolling his eyes in the back of his head, looking pissed off. "Just fucking look it up." 

Quentin immediatly shrinks in on himself, his expression dropping quickly. He swallows, and nods slightly. 

"I - right, right, I-I'm... sorry," He chokes out, scrambling to grab his own Popper textbook as he shoves his nose in it. His mind is whirling with all sorts of bad shit; 'annoying', 'pathetic', 'idiot', 'useless'. He kicks himself under the table, frustrated with himself for being like this. 

After reading the textbook over for another five minutes, he finally gives up and starts packing up. Penny rolls his eyes at him, but does offer to put their textbooks back, and his eyes have a strange glint to them, something akin to pity. Quentin ignores this, and as soon as he has everything back in his bag, he's running straight for the cottage. 

His legs feel weak as he makes his way inside, a party already in full swing. He swallows nervously, weaving in between all the people, frowning and murmuring soft apologies to anyone he bumped into. He made it to the stairs before Margo caught him. 

"Coldwater!" Quentin winced at Margo's sharp tone, and he turned to look at her tiredly. She stood there in a stunning dress, hands on her hips, eyes flashing determinedly. 

"Hey, Margo," Quentin sighs, before shaking his head and turning to walk back upstairs. "Goodnight, Margo."

"Oh no, you dont!" She quickly grabs on his shirt sleeve and attempts to drag him down. "You are not ditching another party to just go sulk in your room." 

Quentin clings pathetically at the staircase banister, groaning tiredly. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the wet feeling behind his eyes. 

"Margo, please, I've had a really long day and I just - Please let me go," he practically begs, tugging for his arm back, hand shaking. Margo growls for a moment, before she lets go of him. He stumbles for a moment, before bolting up the stairs. 

As soon as he makes it to his room, he slaps the door shut and sinks against it, doing his best to hold back the thick tears pressing against his eyelids. He takes in a shuddering breath, pressing his palms to his eyesockets, clenching his entire body before releasing. He relaxes against the door, a few tears leaking out of his eyes. He shakes his head, picks himself up off the floor, and sets his bag down before collapsing om his bed. 

He doesn't know if he sleeps exactly, but the next thing he knows, there's a knock on his door, and a familiar figure standing hesitantly in the door frame. 

"Q?" Eliot calls out softly, eyes scanning the room before landing on Quentin's still form. He tuts softly, shaking his head as he makes his way over. The door closes softly behind him, and Eliot toes off his shoes as he sinks onto the bed beside Quentin. 

"Hey baby, what's up?" The combination of Eliot's soothing tone and the pet name make Quentin's chest clench, and he rolls over so he can bury his face in Eliot's lap. 

"Bad brain day," is heard, muffled by Eliot's slacks. The taller man nods, murmuring softly as he gently combs his fingers through Quentin's soft hair. 

"What kind of bad brain?" Eliot asks, and Quentin sits up at this, blinking up at his boyfriend. He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes darting away as he settles back on Eliot's lap. 

"Um, mainly - like, my RSD started acting up out of nowhere. Well - not nowhere, Penny kind of got on me for asking a question, but to be fair it was a stupid question, and I haven't been able to focus all day, and I'm just -" Quentin takes in a deep, shuddering breath, clenching his teeth as he holds back tears. "Its all just. A lot right now." 

Eliot murmurs soft understanding, hand still gently combing through Quentin's hair. "Is there anything I can do to help you right now?"

Quentin swallows, biting his cheek and finally actually looking up at Eliot. He's stunning in the light, his hazel eyes shining with genuine worry and love that makes Quentin's chest expand. 

"I dunno, just - don't force me to go down to the party? I can't handle social interaction right now," He gets out, sighing softly as Eliot's grip on his hair tightens for a moment. 

"Of course, baby," Eliot says, scratching Quentin behind the ear. He can't help but arch into the touch like a cat, sighing tiredly. He feels a force take off his shoes, then unbuckle his belt and slide off his jeans, and he sits up himself to take off his hoodie. Eliot says he needs to go supervise the party for a bit, but he'll be back as soon as he can. 

He kisses Quentin gently on the mouth, gives him a loving look, before he leaves the room, making sure to shut the door. 

Quentin feels antsy, and he ends up pacing the room, waiting for Eliot to come back. It's definately weird, but he doesn't care, not when he's so desperate for comfort. 

He only has to wait an hour, where upon he is now laying on his bed face down, when he hears the door squeak open. He practically scrambles to his feet like an overeager puppy, sitting cross legged on his bed while Eliot crosses the room. He strips on his way, using telekenesis to neatly fold his clothing and drift it to sit on top of Quentin's desk. 

"Hey, baby Q," Eliot murmurs, slipping into the comforter, motioning for Quentin to join him. He snuggled against Eliot, pressing his whole body against him and sighing heavily. He felt himself relax for the first time all day, and he nuzzled at Eliot's collarbone, breathing him in for a moment. 

They fell asleep like that, wrapped up in eachother.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at @anaemicfurby! i mostly reblog stuff and yell about the things i like
> 
> and if you wanna talk to me personally, contact me on discord! my tag is #3901


End file.
